


Cockblocked

by commanderlurker (honeybee592)



Series: Cats, the V is silent [10]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Hot Tub Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/commanderlurker
Summary: Cats cobbles together a hot tub in the swamp of Zakuul. Just the thing to ease Theron's weary body.Set in Chapter XI of KOTFE.





	Cockblocked

**Author's Note:**

> (I know Theron tells you not to take him on this mission but I am a terrible gamer and couldn't defeat that swamp monster thing without calling him in to heal my useless ass.)

Only when Theron’s had dinner slopped on his plate does he realise that Cats is nowhere to be seen. He wanders around camp, letting the stew cool, but she's not talking to anyone and she's not in her tent. He goes out to the camp’s periphery and asks one of the guards on watch if he’s seen her.

“Yeah, she’s around the corner cleaning out pipes.”

“Is… that a euphemism?” Theron asks. The guard scowls. Man, when did Havoc Squad get so grumpy? Still he follows the guard’s intel and finds Cats around the corner, in a secluded spot near the base of the cliff. She’s not cleaning pipes though; she’s welding them. He shields his eyes with his forearm and picks his way over to her.

“Hey, good timing. I just finished,” she says, flicking up her welding helmet. She’s sweaty and dirty and her biceps bulge.

“Hey, got you dinner,” Theron replies. That’s not actually true. This is his dinner, but he’s probably got enough for both of them.

She takes her mask off and sits down. Theron joins her and together they eat the stew, sharing the one fork.

“What’re you making?” he asks.

“A hot tub.”

“Uh… really?” He looks behind him, sees the tank. Water’s flowing into it from a small diverted waterfall.

“Yeah. Give it an hour or so and it’ll be hot enough to boil a ham.” She waggles her eyebrows and Theron’s stomach flips.

*

A few rounds of sabacc and a more than a few beers later, and they’ve snuck away from the camp, around the corner to the hot tub. The steam’s practically calling Theron’s name. Cats hangs her towel over the pipes and starts stripping. Theron looks away and fiddles with his jacket. Splashes, hisses of  ‘ _hot hot hot’_ then a contented sigh let him know it’s safe to look. Hopefully. It’s already getting dark. Not much of a twilight in this latitude of Zakuul. But Cats has thought of that. She’s put snap-lights on the rim of the tub. Enough to see by, but not so bright that they’ll be a target for anyone peering out from the jungle. From the glow of the light, Cats watches him.

Theron starts stripping, conscious of Cats’ gaze. It’s not like she’s never seen him naked before, but there’s no dignity in getting naked outside. He rushes and clambers into the tub, hoping she hasn’t seen what’s standing at half mast already. Not that he expects anything like _that_ to happen. They’re just relaxing in a tub after a long day fighting off people who want to kill Cats and the whole Alliance.

Cats slides onto Theron’s lap, her arms twining around his neck. Okay, so they are doing this. His arms slip around her waist, their bodies pressed together. She kisses him, and he kisses back, runs his hands up her flank. His semi turns into a, uh, fully. They really shouldn't, not with Havoc Squad so close. It's not professional. Aric Jorgan wasn't exactly all that pleased to see Theron turn up with Cats, but when is he ever pleased about anything?

Boots scuff on stone and someone clears their throat. Theron tries to jerk away but Cats is slower to peel herself off.

“Evening,” Aric says. His expression is completely neutral, like he’s just nodded to an acquaintance on the street.

“Evening,” Cats replies.

“I’m on patrol,” Aric says. “Can’t be too careful out here.” He steps fifteen or so meters further away and turns around, scanning the dark jungle for looming threats.

Theron lets out a long breath. Beside him, Cats mutters a few choice swearwords. Then she pulls a bottle of whiskey out of the tub and takes a swig. Theron gapes. _Hot_ whiskey? He recognised the bottle, the scratched label. That’s not just any whiskey. It’s the Yavin 4 special. And now it’s hot. That’s got to be disgusting. He grinds his teeth. He’s still full of itchy sexual tension. There's no way he'll get any satisfaction now. What was it he was just thinking? That they shouldn't be doing this anyway? He grabs the bottle off Cats and takes a shot. Blerg. He’s sure he’s just burnt off all his taste buds. And the lining of his esophagus.

Aric’s clearly not going anywhere. Bastard knows exactly what he’s doing too. With nothing else to do, Theron takes another gulp of whiskey and rests his head on the edge of the tub. The water’s up to his neck. Nice and hot. Good on his tired muscles. He closes his eyes, just to rest them. Field work sure zaps his energy, but this hot tub is nice. Maybe they can get in the shuttle, install it back on Odessen. Maybe make a whole lot…

A hand touches his thigh and he tenses. Eyes open, head up. Cats. Cats’ hand on Theron’s thigh, and moving higher. He glances at Aric, then back to Cats. She’s sitting back, staring at the stars like her fingers haven’t just stroked his balls. He checks, just to make sure it is her hand under the water. Yep, it sure is. She wraps her hand around his dick and pulls up, slowly slowly. He’s not hard. Yet. Won’t take long though. Theron gulps. He clenches his teeth and stares at Aric. Cathar have crazy good hearing. Better not make a sound. Then again, no noise would be suspicious too.

Cats starts lazily jerking Theron’s dick. He can’t quite believe this is happening, but the tingles spreading over his body tell him it’s real. She's going real slow, like she doesn't have a care in the world. Feels good. So good. A rustle in some nearby bushes draws Aric’s attention and threatens to frighten the life out of Theron. Just a bird though. He makes use of the distraction to still his racing heart, pulling the bottle out of the water and taking another swig. This shit tastes awful.

"Real nice evening,” Cats says casually, twisting her hand.

“Uh huh.” That’s all he can manage. His toes curl and he has to swallow a groan.

Aric hasn’t turned around and glared at them though, so maybe they’re okay. Theron draws on all his years of meditation to calm his breathing and stay quiet. Cats is jerking him just enough to tantalise, but not enough to make him come. Staring at Aric probably isn’t helping his chances of orgasm, either. He picks a tree above Aric’s head that he can focus on instead, keeping Aric just inside his peripheral vision. He allows himself to relax then, let the pleasure of Cats’ lazy hand job wash over him. It’s the best kind of agony. Her firm grip rolls his skin up and down, up and down. The night is quiet enough for him to hear her breathing next to him. She draws in slow, measured breaths, just like him, and he wonders if she’s as turned on as him, and if he can return the favour. He’s rock hard and getting close, but the pace is too slow. Cats probably knows that. She’s probably teasing him. Definitely teasing him. They’re tipsy--drunk--on swamp whiskey. Again. At least this time they’re not lying in dirt.

He slips his hand under the water, allowing a splash for authenticity, and places his hand over hers. She relinquishes control and lets him set a faster pace--not so fast that they’ll create waves, but enough to tip him over the edge. Hopefully. Once she’s got the speed down, he lets go. He wipes his face, the cool night air sending shivers over his wet skin. Yeah, he’s close now. Real close. He has to keep his breathing steady and that’s only making it harder for him to come. But the pressure’s building. His dick starts to twitch. He grinds his teeth and--

He comes, a slow, languid release that matches the pace of Cats’ hand. He shifts, sits up, and Cats lets go. He wipes his face again. Aric still hasn’t moved. There’s come in the water. Is that worse than pee? It’s worse than pee. He glances at Cats. Her eyes are still closed but she’s got a smug as shit grin on her face. He slips his hand onto her thigh but she pushes it away. Fine. He’ll get her back. Somehow.

She sits up, sending water splashing over the tub. She yawns, loudly. “Almost drifted off.” Like hell she did. She cups the back of Theron’s head, ruffling his hair. “Gonna hit the sack.” She stands up in all her naked glory, seemingly not caring whether Aric turns around. Aric’s standing stock still. Statue still. Theron lets himself smile. Cats climbs out, her breasts swaying and dripping water. Theron gulps again. She dries herself off, gets dressed, all while chatting away to Theron about what she’s going to eat when they get back to Odessen. She’s smooth, he has to give her that.

Then she wanders off and Theron’s alone. Well, alone with Aric. He gets up and climbs out, wraps himself in a towel. He’s about to say the water’s still hot when he remembers that his sperm are swimming around in there. He pulls the bung instead, in case Aric or anyone else gets any ideas of having a soak. He grabs his clothes and the whiskey and leaves Aric to the lonely task of keeping watch.

By the time he’s wandered back around to the camp, stumbling only a few times in the dark (he’s definitely not drunk. Definitely) he’s concocted this whole fantasy. He’s going to make Cats come so hard that she has to bite down on his shoulder to avoid making any noise. He’s going to get his fingers between her legs, stroke her and stroke her, maybe break it off to lick them clean, then he’ll dive back in and he won’t stop until she’s shaking around him. Yeah. This is going to be great. He leaves his gear folded and easily grabable under her tent fly and crawls in.

“Cats,” he whispers, all seductive. No response. “Cats.”

He casts the lights of his cybernetics across the cot, up to her face. Eyes closed, lips parted, drool already on the pillow. “You’re asleep.” He can’t believe it. She’s out, just like that.

How’s he going to fulfil his fantasy now?

Well, it’s not like they’re a couple or owe each other anything. They're not even lovers. Just… occasional bed mates. That’s what he tells himself as he crawls back out, gathering his clothes up before retreating to his own tent. See? They don’t even share a tent. They’re not even _close_ to being serious.


End file.
